Double
by sc3arlettsketch
Summary: The consulting detective and his blogger discover a homeless girl crawling through their window. But she is not a member of Sherlock's homeless network and she is not at all what she appears to be. Future Sherlock/OC perhaps?


The morning began with a thud. This was how their mornings usually started: some type of noise awakened the blogger and he would stalk down the stairs to scold his flatmate, the ever-so-obnoxious consulting detective. But this morning was different.

John twitched his nose as he sat up in his bed, glancing around in annoyance and surveying his surroundings. Quickly, he bound down the stairs and came to see a rather strange sight. Sherlock stood tall, eyes wide and glaring, pointing a sword, which John Watson had never seen before in the flat, directly at a girl who laid on the floor. Her entire appearance resembled a deer's. And it was quite clear to John she was far away from home. Her attire reeked of the American culture Sherlock despised. However, John's observations were a bit different from Sherlock's. What Sherlock saw was a recently homeless girl, residing in Salford typically. Her ridiculous "LMFAO" shirt was tattered and appeared to be stolen. She was far from home, but not nearly as far as John thought.

"Let me guess, you're here to rob us." Sherlock sneered, aiming the sword ever closer to her nose that closely resembled John's hedgehog-like nose. She placed an index finger on the sword's edge and pushed a few inches away. She then stood up and smoothed down her clothing.

"Well obviously." the girl said in a Sherlock way. John raised her eyebrows and chuckled lightly. "I honestly thought the two of you were gone. Usually aren't the two of you running about, solving crimes, being rather gay together?" John stopped chuckling and groaned.

"I'm not gay!" he exclaimed. The girl rolled her eyes and began to seem more and more like Sherlock.

"Right. And I'm Mickey Mouse. Now I apologize for breaking and entering. No harm, no foul though, right?" She grinned and extended her right arm towards the both of them. Sherlock had yet to set aside the sword. John expected Sherlock to be used to people breaking into their apartment by now. However, John supposed a woman had never done such a thing before though. So John took her hand and shook it. Sherlock remained distant, glaring at her harshly and gripping the sword's handle. John introduced himself and Sherlock.

"No need to introduce yourselves to me. I already know of the both of you. I follow all your cases through your blog and his website. However, I am Olivia Pierce. I'm a ragged homeless girl, robbing detectives' homes and whatnot. 'How do you do?'" she mock-curtsied. In these few moments John had listened to her speak and introduce herself, he began to feel bone-crushing empathy. He truly felt sorry for the girl and he was slowly beginning to realize he felt like his mother. And he felt even more sorry for her as Olivia directed her attention at Sherlock and a smirk lit up her face.

"Deduce me. I know you're dying to make me feel like shit. Go on." A challenge hung thick in the air like fog. Sherlock smirked back. Olivia proceeded to sit in one of the living room seats and crossed her legs. John's eyes widened and he silently said Oh no to himself. Before he could actually say anything, Sherlock's mouth opened.

"You haven't been homeless for long. Around 7 to 8 weeks. You're homeless because you had been living with an abusive boyfriend and you escaped. However, you managed to steal his wallet. Since then, you've spent all of his money on cigarettes, alcohol and pot. Your mother was a prostitute. She never cared about you. She dropped you off on one of your possible father's doorstep as soon as you were born. Your father never cared about you either. At 16, he kicked you out for merely having a C in Algebra. Pity. You immediately became an underage pornography star and you may or may not have an STD. You've been through several boyfriends throughout your life, never caring about a single one of them. You usually only stay with them for their money. It's quite easy for you to find a boyfriend with a lot of money, considering you typically date men that are far older than you and require a younger companion in order to feel young again. You're only 25 years old and your life is already down the drain. You planned for several years to commit suicide, but you have yet to actually pull the plug. Possibly because of cowardice. It is clear you only care about yourself, but barely. And you believe you are intelligent because you slightly comprehend my higher level of intelligence. But you are so terribly incorrect. You didn't even attend a university. Neither did I of course. But, you...you're a few IQ points shy of being labeled mentally handicapped." Sherlock ended his deductions with a smile. He crossed his legs as well and glanced at the girl, hoping to see a look of pure anger. But his face quickly distorted into slight confusion. She remained smiling. In fact, she was still grinning, appearing rather similar to the Cheshire Cat.

"What did I get wrong?" Sherlock asked worriedly. Olivia cackled, eyes quickly welling up with tears from laughing so hard. She wiped away at them swiftly and Sherlock grew more tense by the minute.

"What did I get wrong?" he repeated through grit teeth. Slowly but surely, she settled down. She inhaled and exhaled a few times, her eyes closed. Then, her doe eyes opened.

"Everything."


End file.
